


The Tie that Binds

by Banshee1013



Series: Dreams [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel Wings, Blow Jobs, Bonding, Bottom Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Mentions of imprisonment and punishment, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25205965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banshee1013/pseuds/Banshee1013
Summary: Years have passed for Castiel since he cured Dean of the curse that caused his dreams to attack him, imprisoned in Heaven for the "crime" of Bonding with Dean. He's been released and returned to the Bunker - but is it a trap set by Michael to destroy their Bond, and destroy Dean in the process?Epilogue for "What Dreams May Come", with some events told from Castiel's POV.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Dreams [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826056
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	The Tie that Binds

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I couldn't leave this one alone :D
> 
> Cas wanted to tell his side of things, I suppose, and I need my boys to be happy as always.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Hey, Cas… you doin’ alright?”

A large, warm hand on his shoulder brings Castiel back to himself and he turns to glance over at its owner.

“Yes, Sam, I am well, thank you.”

Sam’s hazel eyes crinkle, warm and welcoming. With a smile and a nod, he rises from the table, having gathered the dishes from their earlier meal. The hand on his shoulder remains. “Well, I’m going to take these over to Dean and then hit the sack.” The hand gives his shoulder a firm squeeze before releasing him. “Welcome home, Cas.” 

Sam takes the plates over to Dean, across the kitchen in the cooking area where he has been ferrying pans and dishes to the sink and cleaning the stove. From Castiel’s vantage point at the kitchen table, he watches Dean glance away from his work to greet his brother, a warm smile curling the corners of his mouth as he takes the dirty dishes from Sam and places them in the sink to soak. With a vigorous slap to his brother’s shoulder, Sam leaves the kitchen area, sending a small wave to Castiel as he turns the corner into the hallway. Castiel raises a hand in response, then turns back to his contemplation of Dean - the object of his earlier (and constant) distraction.

He continues to watch as Dean rinses the dishes in preparation for washing, and wishes for the ability to access the senses available to him through his true form - the ability to see the beautiful golden hue of Dean’s soul that had first caught his eye that day so long ago in the woods outside the cabin. Well, long ago for him - years, in fact - but, thankfully, only just over a month for Dean due to the time dilation between Heaven and Earth. But the memory is as bright and fresh for him as though it had happened yesterday - the golden light that radiated from him, dulled and brassy at first from pain and anguish when Dean removed him, still in his avatar form, from the magical _asabikeshiinh_ net, but glowing radiant gold as Dean dressed his injured wing; the way his Grace responded in kind, crackling and sparking as Dean stroked his wing with glowing golden fingers. And as greatly as Castiel suffered at the hands of his Brothers who considered his actions blasphemy, their Bond an abomination - he regretted none of it.

But sadly, at least for now, those abilities are lost to him, Michael having stripped all but the barest amount of Grace necessary to not kill him before casting him back down. 

Castiel is pulled from his reverie as Dean completes his task, dries his hands on a towel, and turns to face him with a soft smile - and Castiel’s breath is stolen from his lungs. 

And as Dean approaches and takes the seat across from him, it seems he doesn’t need his Grace after all - Dean’s soul shining through the golden flecks in his moss green eyes. 

Dean reaches across the table and presses a warm palm against his cheek. “Heya, sweetheart.” His thumb strokes a path down Castiel’s cheekbone and he leans into it, his eyes closing to relish the touch. 

When his eyes open again a moment later, Dean’s eyes have darkened with worry. “You must be exhausted,” he says quietly, eyes darting over Castiel’s face, his lips pursed in concern. Dean’s hand lowers from Castiel’s cheek to his hands clasped on top of the table, rising and pulling Castiel to his feet. “We should get you to bed.” 

Castiel assesses his condition - indeed, he _is_ tired - but is surprised to feel a small surge of energy coming through their clasped hands, through their Bond. This causes him momentary concern but is swept away as Dean guides him out of the kitchen, into the hallway leading to the library and down into the map room, past the stairs leading to the entrance he had barely managed to stagger through mere hours earlier, and down another hallway to stand before a door. 

“I… uh,” Dean stammers, his face slightly flushed, the hand holding his beginning to perspire. Castiel surveys the area but detects no change in temperature that would cause the perceptible rise in Dean’s body core temperature, nor the increase in his heart rate… and then he realizes Dean is _nervous_. 

“This is my room but if you, uh… want a room of your own, we have one a couple doors down...” Dean’s words rush from his mouth, eyes cast down as his free hand listlessly indicates a distance further down the hall. 

But no, Castiel is having none of that. He endured _years_ of torture and experimentation trying to break his Bond with this man and he will _not_ _endure another moment without him_. He makes his point abundantly clear, stopping Dean’s words with his mouth, the hand not firmly clasping Dean’s reaching to grasp the handle of the door to open it. He releases Dean’s lips long enough to pull them both inside before closing the door and pressing Dean against the other side of it, kissing him soundly again, his hand releasing Dean’s to clasp both sides of his face and hold him in place to reiterate his point.

After a moment Dean pulls back slightly to huff a small laugh against his lips. “So, that’s a no, then.” He grasps the lapels of Castiel’s coat and deftly switches their positions, pressing him against the door and placing warm hands on either side of his face; soft, sweet kisses against his lips, his cheeks, his forehead. 

With each kiss, Castiel feels another slight jolt of energy surge through him, and his concern grows.

“Missed you _so much_ , Cas,” Dean breathes against his ear, the warmth of his breath and fingers raking through Castiel’s hair sending an avalanche of shivers down his spine. “Let me take care of you.” Castiel’s eyes slide shut and he nods numbly. Dean moves his hands down to his shoulders, sliding them under the suit jacket and overcoat to pull them off and down his arms, hanging them on one of the hooks hanging on the wall nearby. Dean then turns to the tie knot, untying it - “I’ll show ya how to put this on the right way later.” - and drapes it over the coat and jacket on the hook. His hands move to the top button of Castiel’s shirt...

Castiel’s eyes snap open as a memory comes to him, and he gently grasps Dean’s wrists, stopping him. Dean glances at Castiel's hands, then turns confused eyes to his. “Cas, what’s wrong?”

“Dean…” Castiel sighs wearily, dropping his head and moving his hands to lace his fingers in Dean’s. “We need to talk about something first. Something Michael told me while I was imprisoned in Heaven.”

Dean releases one of Castiel’s hands and places it under his chin, raising his head to meet Dean’s gaze, his eyes dark with distress.

“Cas… what did they do to you?” he asks, his voice low and broken. Not waiting for an answer, he pulls Castiel to the bed and sits him down upon it, then lowers himself to take a seat next to him, never releasing his hand. 

Castiel’s eyes drop to their clasped hands, searching for the correct words. 

“One of the final… experiments... my Brother Michael conducted in his attempt to break the Bond was to deplete me of my Grace,” Castiel finally manages to say. “He drained as much as he could without killing me, but as you know, the Bond remained.” He gives Dean a wan smile and Dean presses a light kiss to it. He feels the breath of energy from it and frowns again. “When that failed, Michael laughed and said that maybe it would be better this way.”

Dean’s brows furrow, anger clouding his eyes. “What the hell did he mean by _that_?” 

“My friend Balthazar had been pleading with Michael and my Brothers to release me, to allow me to fulfill my mission serving with you and Sam,” Castiel continues. “For a long time, Michael refused - but then he inexplicably capitulated. He released me, but since my Grace was too depleted for me to leave, he tasked Balthazar to assist me. He was the one that brought me here, that disabled your wards long enough to get me inside, and I used the last bit of Grace I could spare to raise them again.” 

Castiel glances up at a sharp intake of breath from Dean but immediately looks away, unable to bear the look of anguish and fury in Dean’s eyes. The memory of Micheal’s lips curled into a snarl and whispering against his ear sends a shiver through his body. Dean’s hand clenches his tighter in reaction, the other reaching to pull Castiel’s gaze to his, but he resists the pull.

“Before he released me to Balthazar, he told me the Bond would kill you, rendering you soulless as my Grace would be compelled to use it, devouring it to replenish itself,” he chokes out finally, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Castiel isn’t sure what he expects Dean to do, but it certainly isn’t to slide from the bed and fall to his knees in front of him, sitting back on his heels to look up into his eyes, to grasp both sides of Castiel’s face and force him to meet his gaze.

“Cas… I don’t care _what_ that monumental douchebag said to you - there is _no way_ you could ever, _ever_ hurt me.”

And then he rises to his knees to crush his lips against Castiel’s, one hand tilting his head _just so_ , slotting their mouths even tighter together, the other to grasp the back of his neck to pull him even impossibly closer, Dean’s tongue insistent against his lips, and Castiel opened for him, as if there were ever a question he wouldn’t. 

Castiel feels the Bond pull taut, feels the paltry remnants of his Grace leap through it and rush through their mouths and tangling tongues. Dean groans against his lips, the vibrations setting Castiel on fire as his Grace connects with Dean’s burning soul. He weakly tries to pull away, but Dean is having none of it, holding him in an iron grip. And if he is being honest, it feels _too good_ \- the rush of energy heady and all-consuming. 

And that is when he notices something truly remarkable - as his Grace grows stronger, Dean’s soul does _not_ appear to be diminishing. If anything, it is burning _hotter_ … _brighter_. 

His Grace isn’t consuming Dean’s soul to replenish itself, as Michael gloated it would - they are _merging_ , melting and swirling together within Dean, and returning to pour back into himself. 

Dean breaks away, gasping. “God, Cas… that feels _so good_.” His green eyes, heavy-lidded and dark, his thumb stroking his cheek, kiss-swollen lips stretching into a languorous grin. “I told you… you would never hurt me. You can’t.” 

Dean’s hands trail down to Castiel’s collar and the front of his shirt, unbuttoning it as his lips follow the path his hands take; across his cheek, down to his jaw and down his neck, pausing to suck at his collarbone as his nimble fingers make short work of the shirt buttons, jerking the shirttails free from the waistband of his pants to pull the shirt free over his shoulders and down his arms, tossing it absently behind him. Gently pushing Castiel down onto his back, Dean’s mouth continues its journey down his chest to suck and nip at each nipple, tongue licking a warm, wet trail down to his belly button and the beginning of the soft tuft of hair leading beneath his waistband. Dean’s fingers work impatiently at his belt buckle, pulling the belt free of his pants with a snap and flinging it behind him, quickly returning to unfasten and slide the zipper down.

Castiel, who up to this point has been gasping, drifting in a haze of sensation, gives a shocked whine as Dean mouths the hard line of Castiel’s rapidly growing erection through his undergarments. His hips rise involuntarily as Dean’s hands grasp the waistband of both and pull them down, his lips and tongue drawing a hot trail down his hardened length as his hands yank off Castiel’s shoes and socks to free his legs from his pants and push them apart to dive in-between.

“ _Deannnnn...._ ” Castiel groans as Dean swallows him down, the ebb and flow of his Grace and Dean’s soul shifting to Dean’s mouth engulfing him, Dean’s fingers digging into his hips. 

“Dean, please... “ he whines, and Dean glances up to meet his gaze, the gold flecks in the green blazing with heat.

“I need you…” Castiel begins to rise, desperate to relieve Dean of his clothing, to feel Dean’s bare body against his. 

With a last, long lick down his length, his perfect mouth twitching into a heated grin, Dean rises, a hand lightly placed on Castiel’s chest with just enough pressure to keep him down. “ _I’m_ taking care of _you_ , remember?” 

Castiel shudders as Dean’s fingers trace down his chest before lifting to the front of his flannel to peel it off his shoulders and cast it aside, then to the hem of his undershirt to whip it over his head. Kicking off shoes and socks as he unbuckles his belt, Castiel’s breath stutters and his eyes are drawn to the hard length of Dean’s erection stretching the front of his jeans. As Dean flips open the button and unzips the fly, Castiel breathes out a soft whimper as Dean pulls the jeans and undergarments down, his shaft hard enough to paint a trace of precome on Dean’s stomach as it springs free. 

Stepping out of the pants and kicking them aside, Castiel’s eyes travel down Dean’s body and back up to his glowing green eyes, his skin seeming to shimmer gold as he kneels on the mattress, straddling him, chasing him as he backpedals, scooting up the bed until his head abruptly meets the headboard. Castiel moans, his eyes flutter closed as Dean leans over him to drag his lips up Castiel’s neck, across his jaw to his lips; grinding his hips against Castiel’s, their erections sliding together, slick and hot. 

Dean braces on an elbow, fingers curled in Castiel’s hair and continuing to plunder his mouth, exploring it with hot licks of his tongue. Through the dizzying white noise in his ears, Castiel hears the drawer of the nightstand next to Dean’s bed slide open, followed by a _snick_. He opens his eyes, breaking the kiss and looking over to discover the source of the noise - a bottle containing a viscous liquid in Dean’s hand.

“No wing oil, sweetheart. Gotta take more mundane measures…” Dean murmurs against Castiel’s ear, the heat of Dean’s breath against his neck drawing another involuntary shiver. 

Castiel reaches for the bottle, remembering Dean’s preparations during their Bonding. “Dean… may I?”

Dean’s eyes meet Castiel’s, and Dean takes a shuddering breath as he squirts the fluid onto Castiel’s outstretched fingers. He rubs his fingers together, spreading and warming the liquid. With his free hand, Castiel pulls Dean up and reaches behind him, down Dean’s crevice to his rim, running his lubricated fingers around it slowly.

Dean gasps into Castiel’s shoulder, shuddering so alluringly against him and it takes all of his concentration not to orgasm from that alone. He increases the speed and pressure, and finally breaches him with a finger, working it in and around before adding a second, eliciting the most beautiful noises from Dean as he presses back against Castiel’s fingers. Castiel’s Grace and Dean’s soul dance together around them, through them, as he gently opens Dean up.

“Are you ready, my love?” he whispers to Dean as he thrusts a third finger into him. Dean lifts his head from Castiel’s shoulder, meeting his gaze and gives him an urgent nod, his beautiful eyes slit and dark, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Castiel removes his fingers and a little sob escapes Dean but is quickly replaced by a shuddering groan as Castiel uses more of the lube to slick up his length and press the glans against Dean’s opening. Dean’s eyes snap open, blazing green and gold; his perfect lips part on a moan as Castiel slides into him. 

Dean rises, sinking fully down onto Castiel, his back arching and hands on Castiel’s hips, holding him down. Dean pauses briefly, then begins to move. He rides Castiel, slowly at first then picking up speed, his sighs and moans beautiful music to Castiel’s ears. His hands move to Dean’s hips, guiding him at first and then moving up to his shoulders to pull him back down, to the back of his neck to crush Dean’s lips against his, swallowing his moans of pleasure. 

Castiel feels his Grace being replenished, the energy transfer from Dean’s soul restoring his strength and increasing his urgency. He wraps an arm around Dean’s waist and rises to a sitting position, maneuvering his legs underneath him to rise to his knees and flip Dean over. Dean’s squawk of surprise turns to whines and gasps as Castiel thrusts into him. Dean’s fingers claw into Castiel’s back as though to seek purchase in his incorporeal wings, and Castiel shudders and groans, the memory of their Bonding bright in his mind.

“ _Gru unal monons noan mad, od el, gohed..._ Castiel gasps, voice soft like a prayer, each syllable punctuated by a thrust; each pulling a cry, a sigh, a moan from Dean and driving Castiel to greater and greater heights. He feels as if he is burning from the inside out, the silver-white of his Grace swirling and blending and merging with the golden light of Dean’s soul, a whirlwind around their bodies as they move together.

With a shuddering cry, Dean’s body seizes with his orgasm, his body clenching around Castiel, and it is too much; the heat and pressure building and building within Castiel until he feels like it will rip him asunder. 

The room suddenly plunges into darkness as Castiel loses control, his wings unexpectedly manifesting with a thunderous crack that shatters the air and blocks the meager light from the lamp on the bedside table - quickly followed by true darkness as the lamp bulb shatters in a shower of sparks as Castiel reaches his orgasm; his shout like the cry of an eagle, back arching in ecstasy before collapsing upon Dean’s heaving chest, Dean’s heartbeat thudding in Castiel’s ear matching his own, their breaths short and quick in the aftermath. Dean’s arms wrap around him, pulling him closer and twining fingers into his hair. 

Briefly, he sees the sweat on Dean’s chest glistening in the remnants of his Grace dissipating into the shadow of his wings, before pulling them down to wrap around them. 

~~~***~~~

Castiel shivers and instantly Dean is awake, his arm leaving Castiel’s back to reach over and grab the edge of the blanket, pulling it over them; and Castiel realizes his wings are gone again, returned to their incorporeal state. 

He’s not sure how long they’ve been lying there in the dark, but it must not have been long - there’s an urgent knock at the door and a drowsy, slightly worried voice on the other side - Sam’s. 

“Dean? Hey, is everything alright in there? I heard a boom and a crash…” followed by the chatter of the - thankfully locked - door handle being wriggled.

Dean’s heart rate spikes, his voice rumbling against Castiel’s ear as he quickly barks out, “Everything’s fine, Sam! Just knocked over my lamp, s’all good, go back to sleep!” 

With a muffled “mmmrph”, the door handle stills, followed by the sound of Sam’s shuffling feet fading into the distance and Dean heaves a sigh of relief. 

“Yeah, that woulda been awkward.”

Castiel feels Dean’s fingers lightly thread through his hair, then trail down the back of his neck to rest again at his waist. “How’re ya feelin’, sweetheart?” 

Castiel buries his nose into Dean’s neck and breathes in, his scent sweet and salty, and presses a kiss against the underside of his jaw, Dean humming his pleasure. “I am feeling very well, Dean… very well, indeed.”

“I guess so, if the sudden appearance of your wings means anything!” Dean chuckles softly.

“And you, Dean?” Castiel tries to keep the worry from his voice but does not feel like he succeeds entirely, confirmed when Dean’s arms tighten around him, pressing a kiss lightly against his forehead.

“I’m awesome, babe,” he sighs contentedly against the crown of his head. “I honestly can’t remember when I’ve felt better.” 

Castiel presses his palm flat against Dean’s chest and, reaching for his replenished Grace, sends a trickle of it through his palm in search of Dean’s soul - and is surprised to find not only has it not been depleted, it actually seems to have been _strengthened_. 

“Michael lied,” he whispers incredulously, mostly to himself but Dean of course hears him.

“Obviously,” he says with a chuckle, but then Castiel feels him tense. “But why? Why would he lie about that?”

Castiel frowns. “While they were unable to force the Bond to break, either of us can break it with no ill effects if we desired to. I assume he believed the knowledge would make me feel inclined to sever the Bond to protect you.” He pauses as a thought comes and continues bitterly, “Or, he assumed when I told you about the danger, _you_ would sever the Bond to protect yourself.” 

Dean scoffed. “Well, I guess he’s a bigger dumbass than you gave him credit for.” Dean’s lips press against his forehead again. “You can’t get rid of me _that_ easy.” 

A shaft of moonlight streaks through the windows overhead, illuminating them in a silver glow. Dean rolls to lie atop Castiel, elbows propped on either side of his shoulders. His green eyes sparked with silver luminescence, a soft smile curving his lips, and Castiel lifts a hand to the back of Dean’s neck to pull him down and taste that smile. Dean deepens the kiss with a soft sigh against Castiel’s, and he parts them to suck in Dean’s insistent tongue, feeling arousal building in him again; but then Dean pulls back, lips pursed in a playful pout.

“No Round Two tonight, mister. You’ve had a long day and need some rest.” When Castiel opens his mouth to argue, Dean presses a finger against it. “Yeah, yeah, I know, you got a battery jump from my soul. Still…” Dean drops to press another languorous kiss on his lips before dropping to Castiel’s side and pulling him close. “We have all the time in the world now.” 

Castiel listens as Dean’s breathing evens out, and starts to drift into sleep when Dean speaks.

“That… what you said… earlier,” he starts, his voice soft and sleepy, “sounded like a foreign language or something… what were you saying?”

Castiel rolls over, facing Dean to meet his sleepy gaze. “It was Enochian, my native tongue,” he explains softly, brushing fingers through Dean’s hair and drawing a contented sigh from him. “It was… well, a form of prayer, I suppose. Roughly translated, it means ‘ _Cause these hearts to become pure, and one, everlasting_.’” 

Dean’s lips curl into a soft smile, his eyes drawing down further into sleep. “S’nice, I like it. What was it for?” 

Castiel returns Dean’s smile, then leans over to press his lips softly against it. “The primary purpose was to strengthen and solidify our Bond.” 

His eyes narrow, his lips curling with malicious glee. 

“The secondary purpose was to inform Michael that his plan _failed_.”

~~~***~~~

Sunlight streaks through the high windows of the bedroom. Castiel’s eyes flutter open and cast around the room - and then widen as he takes in the state of the their surroundings, 

The room is in utter disarray - the papers on Dean’s desk scattered about the floor, Dean’s guns which were so artfully mounted on the wall behind the bed knocked askew, the bedside lamp knocked to the floor.

He turns to see Dean sitting up in bed next to him, surveilling the room as well. He must feel Castiel stir and glances over, a bright smile spreading over his face. 

“So, one, I _didn’t_ dream you brought your wings out to play last night,” he chuckles, showing him the black iridescent feather held in his far hand. “And ‘b’, before you bring them out to play again, we need to do a little rearranging.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this - and if you love all things Destiel, come join me at the funnest, most supportive place on Discord, the [Profound Bond Discord Server](http://discord.profoundbond.net/)!


End file.
